He's Spartacus! He's Spartacus!

Collective responsibility and I are uneasy bedfellows, especially since I am liable to hide under the covers when the cock crows and culprits are being sought. I have no desire to indulge myself in orgies of guilt and contrition for crimes in which I was merely a tiny satellite tentatively orbiting a pulsing planet of infraction. Instead, I believe in pointing the finger at the ringleader, the mastermind; and I don't believe in just pointing the finger, either, oh no, I believe in prodding the finger at them, preferably into the middle of their delinquent forehead. Furthermore, I don't believe it should be simply a regular bare finger that is prodded, but a huge and colorful foam hand featuring an extended finger, similar to the ones employed by fans at sports events, with "guilty person" written on it. Then we can let the world know exactly who the miscreant was who decided to swap Mellow Colombian for Deep French Roast beans in the office coffee machine.

Comments

[Tatyana]

I take it you don't separate aluminum-foil-bonbon-wrappers from absinthe bottles in your recycle bin, then?
No sharing guilt for murdering mother-Gaia, huh?

[american fez]

I don't recycle or re-use anything. I have no interest in putting plastic bottle and paper bag manufacturers out of business!